


Fever Pitch

by Golddisaster



Series: Tu Es Ma Vhenan [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golddisaster/pseuds/Golddisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some mistakes are made to be rectified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Pitch

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for canon, this ain't the place.

“He’s still feverish, but he’s getting better.” Vivienne said to Dorian, standing up from Shyael's bedside.

“Are you sure?” Dorian asked worriedly, looking at Shyael’s face, forcing himself not to look at Shyael’s left arm. Or rather what was left of it. Shyael was breathing shallowly, chest rising and falling quickly, strands of black hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Of course I’m sure.” Vivienne replied, sounding somewhat offended. “In any case, he might wake up soon. He'll want to see you." Vivienne added quietly as she left Shyael's suite, closing the door softly behind her. Dorian pressed his lips together, closing his eyes, only to be greeted by the memory of Shyael lying in a crumpled heap in front of that mammoth eluvian, the crimson gauntlet Shyael had been wearing on his arm clattering to the ground the instant Dorian picked him up. The sight was too familiar for Dorian to take, his resilient Shy reduced into a crumpled heap. Dorian opened his eyes and brushed the stray strands of hair back from Shyael’s face, like he had done so many times before. Dorian put his hand on Shyael’s cheek, gently running his thumb over the crescent-shaped scar there. How would his amatus react to his arm? Would he laugh it off, as he so often did? Say that it was just one more scar, what was the difference? Would he be heartbroken? Dorian knew how much archery meant to Shyael, his skill was his pride. As Dorian mulled over this, Shyael suddenly took a deep breath, mouth twitching into a grimace. 

“Shyael?” Dorian nearly whispered, leaning forward slightly. Shyael’s eyes barely opened, focusing ahead of him. His gaze slid over to Dorian, and his eyes opened fully. 

“Vhenan?” Shyael asked in a cracked voice, tilting his head toward Dorian. The tone Shyael used with it, the word that he meant for Dorian and him alone, made it sound like Shyael was surprised Dorian was there at all, as if he had expected him to have left for Tevinter. It made Dorian’s heart clutch painfully.

“You have to stop doing this to me _amatus_ ,” Dorian said, feeling tears stinging at the corner of his eyes, trying to not let his voice break, “I don’t think I can take seeing you nearly dead one more time.” Shyael managed a short laugh at that. 

“I’ll try my best not to do it again.” Shyael said with a small smile that slowly fell away to an expression of worry. “I don’t… I can barely remember what happened…” Shyael muttered as he started to sit up.

“Shy wai-“ Dorian started to say, but it was too late, Shyael tried to push himself up onto his elbows, only to stop when he realized he couldn’t push his left arm up any further. Shyael looked down at his arm, the bandaged stump sitting atop the sheets. He made a strangled sound, somewhere in between a gasp and a cry. After a few moments of extremely panicked breathing, Shyael muttered something inaudible under his breath, teeth clenched together. “Now I remember.” He sighed, putting his right hand on his left shoulder. Dorian put his hand on top of Shyael’s, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“It will be alright _amatus_ , I promise.” Dorian murmured, moving closer to Shyael. 

“No it won’t Dorian.” Shyael shot back, not looking up at Dorian. The pessimism took Dorian aback. “You’re going back to Tevinter, the Inquisition will be torn to pieces by this blasted council, and I have no idea if I can stop Solas.” Shyael said with a tone of angry resignation, narrowing his eyes in anger. 

“Well, you might be wrong about that first thing.” Dorian said, tilting Shyael’s face towards his. Shyael stared at him, eyes widening, raising an eyebrow. 

“Pardon?” He asked.  

“Well I know if I don’t stay here you’ll work yourself to death within a year, don’t argue with me,” Dorian said quickly as Shyael opened his mouth to protest, “and then the Inquisition would really suffer. I figured that I could serve as an ambassador for the Inquisition to Tevinter while staying in the south, then we’d both go mad a little less slowly.” Dorian said, smiling at Shyael. Shyael stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“…You’re staying?” He said unsurely. Dorian laughed, a few tears finally escaping from his eyes. 

“Yes I’m staying, how bad is your fever, Shy?” He asked, pulling Shyael into an embrace. Shyael buried his face into Dorian’s neck, his right arm circling Dorian’s waist and pulling him as close as possible. Dorian could feel him shaking. 

“Shyael, are you crying?” Dorian asked in disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last time Shyael cried, if he had ever. 

“Yes, vhenan, I am.” Shyael said, pulling back to kiss Dorian. 


End file.
